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“You okay?” I tip my chin up.
“This? It’s nothing.”
“Having my car crash into the back of yours must have hurt.”
He stands and stretches. “Nothing a little blood in the muscles can’t fix.” I watch as he reaches up, powerful arm muscles pushing against the fine fabric of his suit. His shirt tail pulls out from his waistband, giving me glimpse of his belly.
My mouth goes dry. My pulse speeds up. I feel my face light on fire and I feel a flimmering, like a butterfly trapped in my stomach.
Except much lower.
Wet heat fills my body below my belly.
I cannot be feeling this.
Not now.
Not—
Drew captures my eyes.
Oh, God.
He’s feeling it, too.
Every beat of my heart matches his. I can’t look away. Some wound inside me begins to recover. A part of me that was broken is now unbroken.
I know that a few hours in Drew’s arms can’t solve all my pain.
But it certainly made a difference.
He’s drawn to me. I feel it. We can’t stop looking at each other. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out, those eyes captivating me. As he sits next to me, I can’t help myself. I reach for his hand.
Just like old times.
The kiss is expected and so, so wanted. His lips are soft and warm, his hand reaching up to hold my shoulder, his other hand on my waist. I have so many tubes and wires coming out of me that I’m afraid to move any part of me but my lips. Then tongue.
And then I just disappear in the sweet luxury of being kissed well.
Our first reunion kiss feels like a lifetime ago. Four years of yearning was poured into that kiss, and now there’s less of the yearning and more of the future. Each time Drew touches me, it’s a bridge between the terrifying past and the uncertain tomorrow. I want his touches to mean more than I’m sorry. I want his kisses to stand for more than regret. I want to be wanted because I am Lindsay.
Not because I represent a loss.
But because we have something left to gain.
“You taste like coffee,” I whisper, our foreheads touching, breath joining.
“You taste like Lindsay.”
“What does Lindsay taste like?” I ask, laughter in my throat.
“Like everything.” He kisses me again, this time with more urgency. “Everything.”
Tap tap tap.
Drew’s on his feet in a nanosecond, wiping his mouth, glaring at the door as if it’s done something wrong.
“Damn it,” he mutters to me. “I’m sorry. I need to be more careful.”
